


I left home long ago

by bookingit



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: A Bit of Fluff, Angst, F/M, Frank is a great big Idiot, So does Karen, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, We love him anyway, just a bit tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-10-31 01:59:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17840249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookingit/pseuds/bookingit
Summary: Frank can't help but wonder what draws them to each other.





	1. The wondering

**Author's Note:**

> Hello y'all. Tis' me again. Leave kudos, comments, etc. Writers Love Feedback.

He wonders what brought her to him. 

Was it hope? Maybe she wanted to fix him, reform him. But he doesn’t think that’s it. 

More likely, it was a sense of kinship, of not your first rodeo, and the way she holds a gun. Something that resounds with the sound of rocket thrusters rattling from a broom closet and stars the color of gingersnaps.

He entered into this alone, shouts his mind. Finding a partner in this dark, demented, visceral dance, this tango of blood, bone, and regret… that was never his intention. Or maybe, whispers a voice in the back of his head that sounds suspiciously like Maria, maybe you wanted someone to pull you out of this…

But he can’t afford to think that way, because whether or not he wanted a partner, -- whether he wants to sit down and cry at the fact that his wife would hate what he has become—is irrelevant.  
It doesn’t matter.

Because they are in an elevator car breathing each other’s breath, and she is here, here in front of him, here in his arms. He can almost forget the SWAT team waiting outside for him. It feels like, given ten more seconds, he won’t be able to leave without kissing her. (She is in his arms, and it feels as though she belongs there).

And his heart nearly stops, because she looks at him as if to say, we are the same. I see you, and I keep all of you safe within my ribcage. But you need to leave, because I can’t bear to see you as a corpse. So he forces his eyes down, his arms to let her go. 

His mouth to say take care, and not I love you. Because that’s what it is, isn’t it?

What other feeling could press down on his ribs and squeeze the air from his lungs. Could stamp on his heart, yet soothe his pain?

Later, much later, he catches himself wondering again why he loves her. What made him ask her to stay with him in that hospital room so long ago?  
All of these things plague him, and he forces himself to turn to stone every time they push against his heart.

And then he rejects her. He, who once asked her to stay with him, (he wonders why) holds her hand, sees the raw hope on her face, and tells her no, I do not, cannot love you.

He wants to blame it on the drugs still coursing through his veins. But no, it was all him.

He still has so many questions. And he can ask her none of them.


	2. The Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank does what he does best. (Well, maybe not best.) He investigates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, y'all! Tis' me (again). So continues my first fic in the post-cancellation era. But I'm happy to be updating this! Enjoy! Leave Kudos, comments, etc. (Writers love feedback)

Maybe he’s going crazy, but he thinks he sees her face. It happens like this: He’ll be walking through a crowd with his hood up and hat covering his eyes. He’ll almost be knocked over by a blonde. Not her, but enough to make him have to look twice. Or he looks twice on purpose, whispers that nagging voice that sounds a bit like Curtis, hoping to see her somewhere in the daytime bustle of the city.

Frank vehemently rejects this possibility. But he may, (hypothetically), take a nighttime patrol route that passes by the Bulletin offices. And he may have pondered the idea of reading the newspaper again (purely unrelated to one Karen Page; he just likes the crosswords). 

A month goes by. A month of throwing himself at the city’s crime like a fiend. (A month of walking toward newspaper stands with the intent of picking up a Bulletin, and a month of turning around at the last second).

And then he caves. Bites the bullet (ha) and buys a damn paper, skims the bylines.  
Continued skimming of each consecutive weekly edition and he notices, in fact, a conspicuous absence of her name. Frank may or may not actually start reading the fucking articles every week for the next month to see if she’s somehow mentioned(because Karen Page is a shit magnet)...but he finds nothing. So he does what he does best. Well, maybe not best. (Just most often). He wonders. And then he gets up off his you-know-what and he investigates. 

Investigating, in this case, is not his normal red-handed, cold-as-ice affair. Permeated by worry, his search for one Karen Page starts in a most unlikely place (for him, at least): the library. It starts in the the library because every time he tries to convince himself to go check her apartment, the thought that she might not want to see him makes his hands shake. In other words, he starts with the library because he, Frank Castle, is too chickenshit to talk to one Karen Page in person.

As he sits himself down in front of one of the public computers, he reminds himself that David could be an option for info. But Lieberman has a family, a new life. Frank isn’t going to drag him back into this type of shit.

He scrapes a hand down over his mouth and types K-A-R into the search bar.


	3. Close Encounters of the Karen Page Kind.

It’s so surprising that the first time he  _ actually _ sees her again isn’t during his … night job. 

He’d been picturing it like this: 

He’ll be in the middle of a shootout with some Russian mob bastards, and she’ll suddenly be there following a lead. 

Or maybe he’ll be about to shoot some asshole and she’ll show up, knock the gun out of his hand, and tear him to pieces for trying to kill someone her firm’s being paid to defend. She might stand there, arms crossed defiantly like,  _ Yeah Frank, I  _ know _ he’s an asshole, but he’s our client, too.  _ (He doesn’t want to think about whether or not he’d take that shot, if she made him choose.)

Or maybe it’d be something as simple, as  _ expected _ as her walking past a building one night, something as lonely as him watching her from the rooftop.

He expected something violent, something vaguely sketchy, even. He’s prepared for knife attacks, muggings, cartel firefights; but  _ this _ shit? No way. 

It happens like this:

He’s last in line at his coffee shop and Karen Page, intrepid ex-reporter, marches up to the line with her face glued to her phone and stands behind him. He stands there for what feels like two hours, getting closer and closer to the counter, more and more aware of the terrifying fact that he’s going to have to  _ speak _ , that she might hear his voice.

_ But do I  _ wan _ t her to hear my voice? What would she do? _

He’s torn between the burning desire to look over his shoulder at her  _ (she’s probably still looking at her phone, _ he thinks,  _ she wouldn’t even notice)  _ and the fear of what would happen if he did. 

Just as he’s about to do it, just when he thinks he could get away with it, her phone rings.

_ Well, I guess I’m hearing her voice _ . _ Next best thing, right? _

“Why are you calling me. It’s seven o’clock in the damn morning.” 

A brief pause. 

“How are you so upbeat right now? Fine. Twenty minutes.”

If they’d parted on better terms, he might be able to just… turn around, say something like  _ Hey, how’ve you been? _

But he doesn’t think she would really welcome that.  

So he takes a scrap of paper and a pen from his pocket, scribbles a note; and, come his turn in line, he slides it slowly to the cashier.

_ One large coffee, black. Would appreciate it if you used the rest of the money to pay for the lady behind me as well.  _

The college-aged kid behind the counter nods, tells him that that’ll be five seventy-five, and turns, cup in hand, to one of the machines behind her. 

He pays with a twenty dollar bill, gets his coffee, and gets the hell out of dodge.    
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! I know it's been a while since I've updated this. Sorry for such a short chapter! I'm just having a bit of trouble on one of my other works. That should be updated relatively soon, though. Thanks for reading, and as always, don't forget to leave me comments on what you think!


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